


On a Beach, With You (The Tel Aviv Remix)

by niniblack



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Anal Sex, Beaches, Eloping, Falling In Love, Feelings, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Remix, Riding, Rimming, Speedos, Wall Sex, Whirlwind Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier meets Erik Lehnsherr on a beach in Israel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Beach, With You (The Tel Aviv Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Collected pieces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/500134) by [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o). 



> Specially, this is a remix of [Chapter 8: Surprise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/500134/chapters/877374).
> 
> Thanks to the mods for running everything, [Pearl_o](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o) for the inspiration, and Sarah for the beta!
> 
> _“There’s a bit in X1, I think, where you say to Wolverine that you met a young man, Erik Lehnsherr, and don’t you say you met him in Israel? I think you say you met him in the 60s in Israel. Where of course in First Class we don’t meet in Israel, we meet in… I don’t remember where we meet, we meet off the coast of America or somewhere like that, on a yacht. But I always had this--Michael and I always had this vision of young Charles and young Erik meeting each other on the beach in Tel Aviv, both wearing Speedos… That would have been awesome.”_  
>  \--James McAvoy to Patrick Stewart, interview for AdoroCinema

Charles surveys his suitcase in dismay. “I'm forgetting something,” he says. He starts taking everything back out, comparing it against his list of necessities as he does. 

“Anything you forget we can buy there,” Gabby tells him. 

“Oh, but that's an awful waste when I should just bring it.” 

He's counting how many pairs of socks he has when Gabby comes up behind him, arms worming around his waist. “Stop worrying,” she says. “It’ll be fun.” She nudges him to turn around and Charles goes willingly, resting his hands on her hips. 

“What if no one speaks English?” he asks. “I won't be able to talk to anyone or order dinner or--” 

“They speak English,” she promises. She leans up to give him a peck on the lips. 

“What if your mother hates me?” Charles asks, which is his real worry. Or he thinks it is. Meeting Gabby’s parents feels like it makes this whole thing permanent. One doesn’t spend a month in a foreign country meeting one’s girlfriend’s parents if one isn't planning to put a ring on it, right? 

Charles has the ring, actually, he just hasn't gotten up the nerve to ask yet. He can't escape the feeling that it's all moving too fast. It's not that he wants to go back to before he met Gabby, when he was at a different bar every weekend. That was university. He's got his doctorate now.

“How could anyone hate you?” Gabby asks. She kisses him again, murmuring against his lips, “Everyone loves you.” 

\--- 

They make it a week in Israel before Gabby is shouting at him, “I hate you!” 

Charles isn't quite sure what he’s done, but gathers that admitting to one’s girlfriend, who has stuck by one through most of grad school, that one doesn't want to get married might not have been the best thing to do. He has to resist the urge to look in her mind to find out for sure. Gabby’s always been wary of Charles’ telepathy. 

“I was just being honest,” he shouts back. “What do you want from me?” 

Gabby wipes at her eyes -- which makes Charles feel even worse; he hates that he made her cry -- and says, “Some sign that you actually love me would be nice.” 

“Of course I love you,” Charles says. 

“But you're not _in_ love with me.” 

That brings Charles up short; he's never thought of there being a difference before. 

\--- 

They spend a while talking -- breaking up, really -- before Charles winds up at a hotel in Tel Aviv. 

He calls Raven to vent his troubles, and she goes from being surprised to saying ‘I told you so’ within the first fifteen minutes. 

“Honestly, Charles,” she says. “I can’t believe you stayed with her this long.”

“I thought you liked Gabby.”

“I mean, she wasn’t _awful_ or anything,” Raven says. 

Charles doesn't have to be close enough to read her mind to know that she's thinking _for a human_.

“But you’ve never wanted to settle down with a wife and kids,” Raven continues. 

“I might have,” Charles says. Some days he thinks it sounds rather nice, actually. Having someone to come home to, someone to share everything with. He says as much to Raven. 

There’s a long pause before she says, “You should marry someone because you love them. Because you can’t stand to be apart from them. Not because you’re lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” Charles argues, getting a bit annoyed. “When would I even have a chance to be lonely? I went from living at home to sharing a flat with you to living with Gabby.”

Raven just sighs deeply, the noise crackling over the phone line. “Forget I said anything,” she tells him. 

“I don’t even know what you were trying to say.” 

“Tell me about Israel,” Raven says, changing the subject. “You’re not coming home early, are you?" 

Charles is not going home early. He has a whole month off before he needs to be back in the States to start his teaching job and it’s not like he has anything better to do. His hotel is right on the beach and has a lovely view. 

A very lovely view, he thinks again a few days later, lying on a towel under an umbrella and people watching. There's one man who’s playing volleyball with some friends, wearing only a tiny purple speedo. Charles feels a bit dirty staring at him like this, but reasons that no one can tell where he’s looking beneath his sunglasses. 

Later that day, Charles is dozing a bit. Watching the waves is hypnotic -- how they go from smooth swells to white capped waves, crashing against the shore. It's serene, and he feels like he needs a bit of serenity after the past week. Now that he’s had a few days to reflect on everything, he can see that he and Gabby had always wanted very different things. Charles thinks that they both stayed together for so long because they were comfortable, and he doesn’t actually want to be comfortable. He wants… Well, he’s not sure exactly. He’s hoping he’ll know it when he sees it. 

His serenity is broken by something far out in the water. At first Charles dismisses it, but now that he’s watching he sees when the swimmer goes under and doesn't come back up again. The distress that the person is broadcasting is loud and clear. 

He doesn't consciously make the decision to get up and run towards the water, fighting his way past the breaking waves and swimming as hard as he can; he just does it. Once he’s close he dives, and finds the man just a few feet under the surface. 

Charles wraps an arm around his chest, kicking for the surface as hard as he can. The man struggles against him, and Charles tells him telepathically, _It's alright, I’ve got you._

The man starts coughing as soon as they break the surface, which Charles takes as a good sign. He also keeps fighting Charles’ hold on him. 

“Relax! Relax! Calm your mind,” Charles tells him. 

“Who are you?” the man gasps out. He stops fighting so hard, but still pushes himself away from Charles, treading water in front of him. 

“Charles Xavier. Let me help you get back--” 

“I don't need help.” 

Charles raises an eyebrow. “You were drowning!” 

“I was fine!” 

Charles decides he doesn’t have to put up with ungrateful rescuees, and says, “Fine then,” before heading back to shore. 

The man catches up with him on the beach, grabbing Charles’ arm to slow him to a halt. “Hey, wait.” 

Charles turns back to him, arms crossed over his chest. It's the volleyball guy from earlier, Charles realizes. He recognizes the tiny purple swimsuit. And the abs. 

“Back there, you were in my head. I heard you talking.”

Charles eyes him a bit warily. “I'm a telepath,” he admits, ready for the man to tell him to stay out; that's what most people do. 

Instead the man looks thrilled. “You're a mutant!”

“Yes…”

“I am too,” the man says, smiling at him. 

He appears to be waiting for Charles to say something, so he says, “That’s nice.”

The man looks a bit taken aback by that, but rallies and holds out his hand. “I’m Erik.”

Charles takes his hand. “I’m--”

“Charles,” Erik finishes for him. “You said earlier.”

“Right,” Charles says slowly. 

There's an uncomfortable silence, then Erik asks, “Are you British?” 

“American, actually,” Charles says. Then feeling like he needs to explain when Erik looks confused, adds, “My mother was British.” 

“Oh,” Erik says. 

There's another uncomfortable silence. 

“Okay, well,” Charles says. “I've been reading--” 

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Erik asks suddenly. 

Charles blinks at him in confusion. 

“I mean,” Erik says, “there’s a bar right there.” He points at the beachside bar. “And… Just to thank you. For, um, helping me.” 

“For saving your life,” Charles corrects. 

“Yes, that,” Erik says. 

Charles eyes him for a moment. He thinks Erik is asking him out, and he tries to subtly brush his fingers over his temple so he can check. Erik’s mind is wide open, his thoughts a bit disorganized but loud, and he’s definitely asking Charles out. He’s thinking something rather obscene about Charles’ lips at the moment, actually. 

Charles can feel himself starting to blush, so he quickly drops his hand and says, “Sure.” 

One drink turns into several after they find a travel chess set someone left behind. They play a couple games -- Charles is thrilled to finally have someone able to challenge him at chess, it’s been years since he played a good game -- during which Charles discovers that Erik is German, in Israel volunteering at a hospital, and has the worst political views that Charles has ever heard. 

“You can’t really believe that separatist trash,” Charles protests, after Erik expresses his belief that mutants are a superior species to humans. The scientist in Charles is appalled. “It’s… It’s ludicrous!” 

“Says someone who thinks we should all just hold hands and sing kumbaya,” Erik counters. The little chess pieces have magnets on the bottom, and Erik’s been spinning all the ones he’s taken from Charles in a lazy circle around his palm, fingers flexing a bit to keep them going. Charles keeps finding himself staring. 

“I never said anything about holding hands,” he says. 

“Singing though?” Erik smirks. 

Charles can’t help but smile back. Garbage political views or not, Erik’s very handsome when he smiles. Or when he doesn’t. Really, he’s handsome no matter what facial expression he makes. 

It’s possible Charles is a bit smitten. He blames the four drinks he’s already had. 

“I bet you’d have a lovely singing voice,” he tells Erik. 

“Too bad you’ll never find out,” Erik says. 

“Never is a very long time, my friend.” 

It’s not until they’re being kicked out because it’s closing time that Charles realizes how many hours he’s been talking to Erik. Outside, the beach is nearly deserted, only a few stragglers walking along the sand. 

“I think everything’s closed,” Erik says. 

“My hotel room’s not,” Charles replies, before really thinking about what he’s saying. 

“You’re inviting me back to your room?” Erik asks. 

“Well not if you're not interested,” Charles says. He knows Erik’s interested. 

“I didn’t say that.” Erik’s grin spreads across his face slowly; it makes him look a bit predatory and Charles feels goosebumps rising on his arms. 

Erik gestures down the beach. “Lead the way.” 

“You just want to follow me and stare at my ass,” Charles says. 

Erik doesn’t deny it. 

\--- 

Charles hasn't had sex with a man since before he'd started dating Gabby, and he hadn't realized just how much he missed being fucked until Erik’s bent him over the edge of the mattress, rubbing a slick finger against his hole, working his finger in down to the second knuckle. 

“God you're tight,” Erik says. He keeps rubbing at Charles’ perineum as he works his finger in further, sliding back out a bit before pushing in further. 

“It's…” Charles says, feeling a bit out of breath already. “It's been awhile.” 

He can almost hear the grin in Erik’s voice, certain that he's smiling with all his teeth again. “I'll go slowly then,” Erik says, before kneeling down and spreading Charles wide. 

“What are you--” Charles breaks off with a keen as Erik starts licking at the edge of Charles’ hole, around the finger he still has buried inside. 

Erik keeps rimming him, taking his finger out and replacing it with his tongue. Charles grips the sheet in his fists and pushes back against Erik’s face wantonly, wanting more, but Erik’s hands are holding onto Charles’ ass, thumbs digging in and spreading him wide while the tips of his fingers dig into Charles’ hips, holding him in place against the edge of the mattress. Charles’ cock is rubbing against the sheets, the sensation nice but not nearly enough. Nothing feels like enough. 

Erik pulls back, placing a sloppy kiss on Charles’ right ass cheek, then his left, then the small of his back. He runs one finger down Charles’ crack, rubbing against his slick hole, and Charles can't stop himself from whining a bit. 

“Tell me what you want,” Erik says, working his finger in again. 

Charles rests his forehead against the bed, panting hard. “I want you,” he says. 

Erik pulls his finger out again, and works two back in. “You're going to have to be more specific.” 

Charles groans, dropping his face against the bed until he can't breathe, then turning to the side to gasp out, “I want your cock.” Telepathically, he adds, “ _Erik, please…_ ”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Erik says. Then he's pulling his fingers out again. Charles starts to complain, but he's back a second later, fingers slick with lube. This time he's clearly on a mission, loosening Charles up quickly and efficiently instead of playing. 

It still feels amazing, and Charles has to fist his hands tighter in the sheets to keep from reaching down and touching himself, jacking off with the feel of Erik’s fingers in his ass.

He’s completely startled when Erik pulls out and flips him over, landing on his back with a yelp. But this is better, this way Charles can see Erik as he looks down in concentration, lining his cock up and starting to push in. Charles tilts his head back, wincing at the stretch of Erik’s cock inside him; his cock is much thicker than his fingers had been. 

“Relax, shh,” Erik says, running a hand over Charles’ ribs, soothingly. 

“Keep going,” Charles says. “Don't you dare stop.” 

Erik keeps pushing in and keeps up his petting as well, until he’s all the way in, balls brushing against Charles’ ass, and Charles can't remember ever feeling quite so full before. He'd forgotten what this was like, having someone else inside him. The initial burn of his body stretching to make room for Erik is fading into pleasure at being filled like this. 

“Move,” he tells Erik. 

“Are you--” 

“Move,” Charles says again, more forcefully. 

Erik runs a hand along Charles’ thigh, taking hold of the back of his knee and raising his leg. Charles hooks his leg over Erik’s shoulder, groaning as it shifts Erik’s cock inside of him even deeper. 

Then Erik takes hold of Charles, his long fingers digging into Charles’ hips -- he’ll have bruises tomorrow, but that thought just arouses Charles even more -- and pulls back, nearly all the way out, before slamming back in. 

Charles nearly screams, and as it is brings a hand up to his mouth to bite at his own wrist. Erik keeps up the pace, hard and fast and jarring Charles forward on the bed with each thrust, only to be pulled back by Erik’s grip on his hips. 

“I want to hear you,” Erik gasps out. 

The headboard is banging against the wall. Charles spares a thought for whoever is next door, but moves his hand, gripping the sheet instead. His breathing is loud, and he can't help the small noises that are forced out him every time Erik thrusts in. He’s hitting his prostate on every couple of strokes, and each time Charles can feel his orgasm getting closer and closer. 

Charles reaches down to grasp his own cock, trying to time his strokes to Erik’s thrusts but failing miserably. The friction, combined with Erik fucking into him, is still enough to send him over the edge after only a couple of strokes. He comes hard, come striping his belly, and Erik groans as Charles clenches down around him, rhythm faltering a bit before he regains momentum and fucks Charles through his orgasm. 

It almost feels like too much now, and once Charles feels like he can do more than gaze dazedly up at the ceiling he looks down at Erik. 

Erik’s sweating, beads of perspiration on his brow and across his shoulders, and he’s looking at Charles with an expression so intense that Charles has to glance away again, gaze skittering over Erik’s chin and chest before meeting his eyes. 

“Come on,” Charles says. There's a jolt of pleasure as Erik hits his prostate again, and Charles finds himself gasping as he says, “Come for me Erik.” He digs his heel into Erik’s back, urging him on. 

Erik lets out a loud groan, pace increasing until Charles feels sure that his ass is going to be bruised by how hard Erik is slamming into him. Then he falls forward, hands slipping from Charles’ hips to brace himself up on the mattress on either side. His face goes from scrunched in concentration to slack as he comes. 

Charles runs his hands over Erik’s arms, his chest, his hair -- all the parts of him he can reach. Erik eventually looks up at him, mouth still hanging open. 

Charles smiles at him. 

Erik surges forward to kiss him, and Charles absolutely does not squeak in protest as he’s folded nearly in half, Erik’s softening cock shifting within him. He kisses back, as enthusiastically as he can manage when he feels just about ready to drop from exhaustion. 

Erik leans back, pulling out of Charles carefully and slowly lowering his leg back to the bed. Charles lies sprawled there as Erik retreats to the ensuite, returning a couple minutes later with a washcloth. Charles cleans himself up a bit, then tosses the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom door. “Lie down,” he tells Erik, tugging at his arm. 

Erik sits on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable. 

“I need a nap after that,” Charles says, scooting around until he can kick the soiled sheets off the end of the bed. He tugs on Erik’s arm again, and this time Erik lies down, curling up behind Charles and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Charles means to say something else, about how amazing the sex had been or how they should get brunch in the morning, but he falls asleep before he can say any of it. 

\--- 

When he wakes up Erik is gone, and Charles panics for a solid five minutes before he finds a note Erik left on the dresser. 

_Went to get breakfast. Be back in 10._

The relief Charles feels at finding the note surprises him, and then he wonders why he cares whether Erik’s left or not. He’s just a one night stand, a rebound fuck. Surely Charles should want him gone now that it’s morning. Last night was incredibly enjoyable, but they can both go their separate ways now. 

Instead, he drags Erik back to bed as soon as he walks in the door, only just catching the bag of scones Erik’s carrying and dropping them on the table. 

Hours later, when they’ve finally eaten the scones and showered and Erik’s sitting on the balcony wearing a hotel provided bathrobe and nothing else, Charles thinks again that he should want Erik gone now. 

Then Erik looks up from the paper he’s reading and smiles at Charles, and Charles feels a peculiar flutter in his stomach. 

To distract himself from the feeling, he sets to making tea. He resolutely ignores it when his stomach gives the same flutter as his fingers brush Erik’s, passing him the mug. 

“Did you have any plans for the day?” Charles asks, leaning back against the railing and crossing his ankles. 

Erik takes a sip of his tea, then asks, “Did you?”

“My plans for the next month have shifted rather abruptly,” Charles admits. “I haven’t made any new ones yet.”

Erik makes a questioning noise. Charles hesitates for a moment before deciding that he might as well be honest, and tells Erik about Gabby, and coming to meet her family, and then breaking up with her not even a week ago because he realized he didn’t actually want to spend his entire life with her. By the time he’s finished talking, his tea has gone cold. 

Erik’s quiet for a few minutes after Charles stops talking, then says, “So you’re staying for the month anyway?”

Which wasn’t what Charles expected him to say at all. He’s not sure what he did expect, a comment on Charles failed relationship, maybe, but not glossing over it entirely. “Er, yes.”

Erik smiles. “Good.”

It’s not until later, over dinner at a beachside bar, that Erik confides his own reason for the long stay in Israel. “I was in some trouble,” he confides. “At home.”

“What kind?” Charles asks. 

“The legal kind,” Erik says. Charles raises an eyebrow, and Erik adds, “I got involved with-- Well, the actual charges were political vandalism, destruction of federal property, and arson.”

Charles’ eyebrows climb even higher. 

“I thought we were making a difference, you know?” Erik looks at Charles earnestly. “The guy running everything was so… passionate. I thought we were doing the right thing. I still think the cause is good, no matter what you want to say about humans and mutants being the same. We’re not, and they’ll never really accept us as equals.” That had been a topic of conversation last night, Charles remembers. Though Erik hadn’t mentioned being actively involved in any separatist movements. 

“Arson?” Charles finally asks. 

“No one was home,” Erik says quickly. “But they could have been, I guess.”

Charles isn’t sure what to say to that. “So you weren’t…” he trails off, not sure what he wants to ask. 

“I was in jail for a couple months. Got out early for good behavior and decided I needed a change.” Erik leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over his lap. He picks up his glass, but just holds it, instead of taking a drink. “So here I am.”

Charles takes a slow sip of his own drink, stalling. He thinks that hearing all of this ought to have changed his opinion of Erik, but finds that it really hasn’t. If anything, it’s only added to how fascinating Charles finds him. 

Erik mentioned following someone because they were passionate, but the past twenty-four hours have shown Charles that Erik is the passionate one. Certainly Charles has never had a lover who was quite so intense before, and it only makes sense that Erik’s fervency extends to every aspect of his life.

Charles decides to use the same tactic that Erik had earlier, when he had spilled his own guts. “For another month?”

Erik’s expression is unreadable, and Charles resists the urge to peek and find out what he’s thinking. “At least,” he says. 

“Good.” Charles smiles. 

\--- 

Erik stays the night again, but leaves early in the morning. 

“I have to work,” he murmurs against Charles' temple, leaving a kiss there before climbing out of bed. At the touch, Charles gets a wave of sleepy affection that makes him smile. 

He rolls over, watching as Erik seems to debate wearing his speedo as underwear and ultimately shimmies into his jeans without bothering. 

“I thought you were a volunteer,” Charles says. 

“I still have a schedule,” Erik says. He leans back over Charles, caging him in with his arms. “Why? Going to miss me?”

“Going to miss your cock,” Charles says, groping at it through Erik's pants. 

Erik grins wolfishly. “Don’t worry, it will miss you too. And that thing you did with your tongue last night.” 

Charles sticks said tongue out at Erik. 

Erik leans down to kiss him, quick and hard, then says, “I really do have to go.” 

“Okay.” 

“I want to see you later,” Erik says. 

“Not sick of me yet?” Charles asks. He doesn’t realize until he’s already said it how much he cares about the answer. 

Erik kisses him again. “Of course not.” 

\--- 

They spend the next week lazing about on the beach or exploring the city together. Erik’s practically moved into Charles’ hotel room -- his own flat is shared with two roommates and while Charles has been there, they’ve never stayed the night. One evening they’re leaning against a fence, listening to a band Charles has never heard of play music in a language he can’t understand. Erik’s arm is resting easily over Charles’ shoulders, Charles’ arm is wrapped around Erik’s waist, thumb hooked through one of his belt loops, and it’s then that Charles finally stops worrying about how he should be feeling about all of this. His brain has been telling him that this is a fling, a rebound, he’s not in love with Erik, he’s just in lust. This will be over in another two weeks and Charles will go home to America and Erik will go wherever he’s planning on next and they’ll never see each other again. 

But the thought of never seeing Erik again makes Charles ache. It’s physically painful. He’s never been so at odds with himself before. Charles has always prided himself on approaching problems logically, something that’s served him well in all his years studying science. Erik defies all the logic Charles tries to throw at him. 

Stop trying to make it make sense, some part of Charles’ brain whispers. It sounds suspiciously like his sister. 

Erik’s humming along with the melody and Charles was right, he does have a lovely singing voice. He looks down at Charles, almost as if he senses the serious turn Charles’ thoughts have taken even though he’s been careful about not projecting things. “What’s wrong?” Erik asks. 

“Nothing,” Charles says. 

Erik runs his thumb along Charles’ forehead, smoothing the line there. “You’re thinking pretty hard about something.”

“I was thinking about you,” Charles admits. 

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

“The very best.” Charles rocks up onto his toes to press a kiss against Erik’s lips. 

\--- 

One night during the second week, Charles is plastered against Erik’s back, fucking into him with abandon. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh is loud in the otherwise quiet hotel room, broken only by Erik’s quiet moans. Charles smooths his hands across Erik’s shoulder blades, palms slipping against his sweaty skin as he strokes down Erik’s biceps, over his elbows, until his hands cover Erik’s against the bedspread. Erik moves his fingers, lacing them together with Charles’ and squeezing tight. 

Charles rests his forehead against Erik’s back. “Fuck, Erik…” 

Erik shifts a bit under him, changing the angle and groaning. “Come on,” he says. 

Charles keeps pounding into him, and just when he thinks it can’t feel any better than this, there can be nothing better in this world than fucking Erik -- except perhaps being fucked by him -- it suddenly does and he moans, lips pressed to Erik’s skin, “I love you.” Then he’s coming hard, trying to bury himself as far into Erik as he can. 

Charles doesn’t realize what he’s said until he’s come down a bit, and once he does he freezes, fingers tightening against Erik’s. 

Erik wiggles a bit, and Charles slides back off of him. 

“Charles…” Erik starts to say. 

Erik still hasn’t come yet, and Charles nudges him until he flops onto his back and Charles can lean over, taking Erik’s cock into his mouth and sucking hard. Whatever Erik had been going to say is broken off into expletives. He cards his fingers through Charles’ hair, gentle at first and then gripping tight, and Charles keeps going, running his tongue around the head of Erik’s cock and fondling his balls with his other hand. It doesn’t take long before Erik’s pulling him back, and Charles strokes him a few more times he comes, spilling over Charles’ hand and his own stomach. 

When they’re curled together in bed later, Charles’ head pillowed on Erik’s chest while Erik strokes his hair, Erik says, quietly, “Me too.”

Charles props himself up so that he can look at Erik’s face. Erik’s hand is still tangled in his hair. “What?”

Erik looks at him fondly. “I love you too.”

“Oh,” Charles says, surprised. “I…”

“Is that not the answer you were wanting?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean…” Charles forces himself to stop babbling, and Erik’s smile is almost a smirk. “I… Really?” 

“Really,” Erik says. “I don’t know what I’d be doing without you here.”

“What do you mean?”

Erik looks thoughtful, staring at a point over Charles’ shoulder for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “I came here in the first place because I didn’t know what to do with my life, and I needed to get away. And this seemed as good as anything. But… I don’t know. Maybe I was always supposed to come here so I could meet you. Maybe all the shitty things that happened only did so that I’d wind up here, now, with you.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Or maybe it’s all just chance.”

There’s a part of Charles -- the logical, scholarly part that happily spent years researching and learning and writing dissertations that bored everyone around him to tears -- that’s telling him it’s too soon. He’s known Erik for two weeks, he can’t be in love. Charles squashes it down, because the rest of him feels more alive than he ever has before. He can’t remember ever feeling like this, with anyone. 

“If it’s chance then we’re very lucky,” Charles says.

Erik uses the hand that’s still tangled in Charles’ hair to pull him down for a kiss. 

\--- 

The third week it’s Erik’s turn to blurt things out while fucking Charles. “Marry me,” he says, forehead pressed to Charles’, hands fisted in the sheets, and Charles’ knees hooked over his arms. 

Charles says, “Yes,” before he’s even thought about it. 

The next morning, he wakes up before Erik -- a rarity, since if Charles had a choice he’d skip mornings entirely and not wake up until noon. Erik’s face is peaceful when he sleeps, long eyelashes resting against his cheeks and lips just slightly parted. Charles lies next to him and studies his profile, the small scar above his lip and the ginger stubble that had scratched against Charles’ thighs the night before. 

He thinks about waking up next to Erik everyday, for the rest of his life. Instead of the creeping panic that thinking about spending forever with Gabby always induced, Charles feels nothing but contentment. Nothing has ever sounded more perfect. 

When Erik’s eyes start fluttering awake, Charles leans over and kisses him and says again, “Yes.”

\---

Getting married turns out to be more complicated than Charles thought. There are visas to obtain and forms to fill out in triplicate and Erik books them a day trip to Cyprus, where they exchange rings at the courthouse and grin at each other so hard that the official rolls his eyes and tells them to just kiss already.

When they get back to Tel Aviv that evening, Erik waits until they’re inside the hotel room before he pushes Charles up against the door, hands cupping his head to tilt his face up for a kiss. 

Charles kisses him back enthusiastically. When they break apart, breathless, he says, “Hello, husband.”

“Call me that again,” Erik says, trailing kisses down Charles’ jaw to his throat. 

Charles tilts his head to give him better access and says, “My husband.”

Erik latches onto a spot just under Charles’ ear, nipping a bit with his teeth and surely leaving a mark. Charles can't help the breathy moan that escapes him at the feel of Erik's teeth against his skin.

Erik's hands skim down Charles' sides, the touch almost gentle enough to tickle, then settle on his ass, grabbing a cheek in each hand and squeezing roughly, yanking Charles' hips towards his.

Charles squeaks in surprise, and Erik laughs, breath warm against Charles' throat. “I want to fuck you right here,” Erik says.

He pulls back, looking down at Charles with a gaze so intense that normally Charles would turn away. But he doesn't this time, staring back at Erik. “You've fucked me in this room lots of times,” Charles says.

“I mean against the wall.”

“Oh,” Charles says. Erik's hands are still on his ass, kneading the muscle. It's such a possessive gesture, and Charles' cock is already hard and straining against the zip of his pants in response. “Alright then.”

Erik's answering smile is just a bit predatory. 

Wall sex, it turns out, is a lot more complicated than Charles had anticipated. They get undressed easily enough, and Charles braces himself on the wall and spreads his legs while Erik leaves wet, messy kisses across his shoulders and preps him. But then Erik insists that wall sex isn't the same if they're both on their feet, and thus begins numerous attempts for him to lift Charles and fuck him at the same time. After the third time Charles knees slide down Erik’s arms, shifting Erik’s cock inside him painfully enough that Erik starts swearing, Charles calls a halt to the proceedings.

Erik looks incredibly disappointed.

“Sit on the bed,” Charles tells him.

Erik does, still pouting. “Maybe if we try the hallway, so your feet can reach the wall…”

Charles climbs onto the bed after him, crawling on his knees and pushing at Erik’s chest until Erik scoots back towards the headboard. Once Erik is where Charles wants him, he straddles his lap, settling himself between Erik’s spread thighs. “Maybe some other time,” Charles tells him, stroking his fingers up and down Erik’s spine. Erik shivers at the touch.

Erik’s arms wrap around Charles again, hands settling back on his ass. One of his fingers teases at Charles’ hole, already slick and open from their earlier attempts. “Promise?” he asks.

“We have till death do us part to perfect wall sex,” Charles reminds him. Erik grins, and Charles, who’s taller in this position, leans down to kiss him.

Charles is still a bit surprised by how much just kissing Erik turns him on. All of Erik’s bare skin, smooth and warm because Erik is like a walking furnace of body heat, just adds to it. Their cocks keep rubbing past each other and each touch makes Charles jerk a bit at the flash of pleasure. He gets his knees under him and lifts up. “Come on, like this,” he says.

Erik uses his grip on Charles’ ass to pull him closer, shifting his angle a bit until the head of his cock is resting against Charles’ hole, then pushing in.

Charles sucks in a breath as he lowers himself back down on Erik’s cock. Once he’s bottomed out, Erik brushes his fingers through Charles’ hair and says, “Breathe.”

Charles lets his breath out in a whoosh. Erik lips are quirked a bit, not quite a smile but definitely a fond expression. Charles clenches down on him just to watch how his eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. Then he uses his hands on Erik’s shoulders to lift up again, before dropping back down with a soft gasp as Erik’s cock brushes against his prostate. Erik groans.

Charles does it again and the feeling is the same. The burn from the stretch of having Erik inside him is eclipsed by the intense pleasure and Charles sets up a steady rhythm, pushing up with his thighs and letting gravity take him back down. Erik’s hands are back on his ass, guiding him or just holding on.

They’ve done this position before, but with Erik on top. Charles isn't sure which he likes better. Like this, Erik is looking up at him with an expression that Charles can't put words to. He reaches out with his telepathy, and encounters a wave of emotion so intense it makes him falter in his rhythm. Erik’s mind is a mix of pleasure and awe and _love_ , and Charles can't help but push his own emotions towards Erik. The amazement that they've found each other and found _this_ , in the most unexpected of places.

Erik gasps, and says, “I didn't know you could do that.”

“I have lots of tricks,” Charles says. As he lowers himself back down Erik’s cock he clenches tight, earning an entirely different type of gasp from Erik.

“I look--” Erik groans as Charles lifts up again, and jerks his hips up to follow. “Look forward to discovering-- Fuck. Charles.”

He never does finish what he was going to say, instead wrapping an arm around Charles’ waist, guiding him more insistently towards a quicker rhythm. For a long time, the only noise in the room is the sound of sex and their harsh breathing, broken only with soft groans and grunts.

“Erik,” Charles gasps out, when he feels like he’s on the edge of orgasm. He hasn't even touched his own cock, but Erik’s been hitting his prostate on nearly every thrust -- just irregular enough that Charles can never anticipate it and is shocked by the burst of pleasure every time. “I need... I…”

Charles can’t even get himself together enough to tell Erik mentally what he wants, but Erik seems to understand, and wraps a hand around Charles’ cock, his grip tight and slicked with Charles’ own pre-come. It only takes a couple strokes before Charles is coming between them. He throws his head back, grinding his ass down against Erik, and it’s only Erik’s arm around him that keeps him from toppling over completely.

When he can think coherently, he braces himself on Erik’s shoulders and starts moving again. Erik’s grip on his hips is tight, guiding the motion, and it’s not long before Erik jerks his own hips up sharply and comes.

They stay like that for a bit, sticky and sated, and Charles rests his chin against Erik’s shoulder and closes his eyes. There’s a name for this feeling, he thinks, like everything is right with the world, so long as he stays here, with Erik’s arms wrapped around him.

\---

Charles calls Raven the next afternoon, while Erik’s off packing up the few things he hasn’t already brought to the hotel. 

“You sound happy,” she says, a bit suspiciously.

“I am!” Charles tells her. He can’t seem to stop smiling. 

“Well, I’m glad your trip turned out well,” Raven says. “Especially since it started off so poorly.”

That pulls Charles up short. He hasn’t even thought of Gabby in… a week? Longer? His entire world has been taken up with Erik. With his husband. Just thinking it makes something inside Charles tighten up with emotion. He’s married. Erik is his husband.

When he tunes back in, Raven’s saying, “I guess I’ll see you Friday then. Your flight gets in at noon, right?”

“You don’t have to pick me up.”

“I want to. I haven’t seen you in a month.”

“Okay,” Charles says, then adds, “I'll have a surprise for you.”

Raven perks up at that. “Oh? Is it pretty?”

Charles thinks about Erik’s eyes, and the way they change from grey to green to blue, and his smile, wide and too full of teeth but beautiful all the same. “Yes,” he says. 

“I can’t wait then!”


End file.
